


Of Meals and Masters

by BecauseItIsTheLight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I have no excuse for this, It is ridiculously indulgent, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Jedi Master Dooku (Star Wars), Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), Just nice soft feelings, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, There is no war in this, This morning I thought of Dooku calling Ahsoka feral and laughed until I cried, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, because i feel like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 19:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30110607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseItIsTheLight/pseuds/BecauseItIsTheLight
Summary: Twenty years ago, Dooku never left. Ten years ago, Qui-Gon Jinn lived to tell the tale.But all that matters is the present moment.The present moment contains a meal. And a term paper. And an awful lot of discussion about pants.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	Of Meals and Masters

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down this morning and spent all day writing this it completely possessed me the moment I thought of Ahsoka being called feral
> 
> Please enjoy this resulting piece of shameless, indulgent fluff.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was relieved to see the last of Orn-Free-Taa for the day. 

The Jedi had been called in as a neutral party to try to resolve the current tensions between the Senator of Ryloth’s aristocratic political party and the more populist one of Cham Syndulla’s, which had been causing immense amounts of upheaval on the planet. Personally, he couldn’t blame Syndulla and his rival political faction for their intense dislike of the man.

It’s not that there was anything specifically...wrong with the Senator from Ryloth. It’s just that there wasn’t much right with him, either. 

At every point in their meetings (to which he had arrived late), Taa had been profusely admiring of the Order. Everything from their founding virtues to the tapestries on their walls had been scrupulously complimented. He had even attempted to direct his flattery towards Obi-Wan, who had politely but firmly refused to entertain the personal conversation. It was clear to him that the Twi’lek believed that by showing what he surely thought to be a cunning personableness, things were more likely to end up on his side. 

All in all, after five grueling hours, they hadn’t even gotten to what the tensions were  _ about _ , in favor of debating aspects of procedure and ceremony. 

He was tired. He was irritated. 

He was in desperate need of food, and someone that didn’t cloyingly praise his “wisdom which was surely the mark of his great status as Jedi Master.”

Luckily, as he had agreed to meet the majority of his lineage for dinner, he was surely bound to receive both of those things. He passed two of the Temple Guard as they sternly kept their watch over the entrance to the corridor which led from the public areas of Anohrah to the private. The moment he passed them, he began to feel lighter, and he felt collected enough to lower his shields. Around him, the familiar presence of his fellow Jedi began to rub smooth all of the edges which had been sharpened by his frustrating day, like running water over a stone.

That was, until twin bursts of hot anger and stony condescension slammed into him. It took him less than the space of one inhale to recognize the sources of the emotions. With a sigh, he abruptly changed his path. 

It took a mere fifteen paces to get to them. In front of him, Anakin Skywalker and Master Dooku were facing each other, faces marked with their own individual brands of indignation. Anakin stood with his arms crossed, eyebrows knitted tightly together. His bright blue eyes were practically sparking with temper. Master Dooku stood tall but imperious, determined not to show his irritation and failing miserably. 

Obi-Wan put on his most soothing, patient face. 

“Hello, there.” he called out to them, reaching out to them in the Force as well as with his voice.  Anakin immediately whirled around, soldier meeting reinforcements.

“Master,” he said through gritted teeth, “Will you please remind our grandmaster that she is a  _ teenager _ ?”

Obi-Wan gave them both a quizzical look as he came to rest beside Anakin, trying to quickly piece together the subject of the conversation. “We’re speaking of...Ahsoka?” 

“In the name of the Living Force, Obi-Wan, I demand you do something. The child is practically feral.”

At his side, Anakin made a noise vaguely reminiscent of a startled hen. “ _ Feral?!” _

“Horrific manners, always trouncing about in that ridiculous getup, without even a single thought to decorum or tradition –”

“That’s what she wants to wear!” 

“And when you were eleven years old,” Master Dooku retorted hotly, “you told me you wanted to jump off of the top of Anohrah to practice your Force Landings. That doesn’t mean I should have shown you how to get to the roof!” 

This last struck Obi-Wan as extraordinarily funny. 

But he would not laugh. He would  _ not _ . 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was thirty-seven years old, and a fully fledged Master in his own right, rumoured to be the greatest practitioner of Soresu in the Order’s history. He was a member of the Council and an accomplished diplomat. He had successfully raised one Padawan, the Chosen One himself, to Knighthood. But even he dreaded the disapproving glare which would certainly be turned on him with full force, should his mouth even twitch. 

Only a fool dances at the edge of a Sarlacc pit, as they say. 

“I will speak with her myself, Master,” he promised, the very picture of neutral grace. 

_ “Traitor,”  _ Anakin accused across their bond.

_ “Do you want to sit here in the corridor arguing with your grandmaster for the next thirty minutes, or do you want to go to dinner?” _

_ Stubbornness-Irritation-Reflection-Concession. _ “ _ Dinner.” _

_ “I thought so.” _

Master Dooku nodded in satisfaction. “See that you do. As the most immediate grandmaster, her upbringing is your responsibility just as much as Anakin’s.” Under his breath, he added “Somebody has to civilize the poor girl, if he won’t.” 

This last nearly set Anakin off again, but this time Obi-Wan beat him to it. 

“Your worries are quite unnecessary, Master,” he said. His voice was still neutral, but there was a soft, protective edge to it now, rather than humor. “But as I say, I will speak with her.”

His grandmaster sighed, clearly seeing that he was outnumbered. “Very well.”

“Will you join us in the refectory for dinner this evening?”

_ “Obi-Wan! No!”  _ Anakin complained silently. __

Count Dooku visibly calmed at this sign of respectful inclusion, quite his due.“Thank you, Master Kenobi, but I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve promised Master Mundi that I would take over tonight’s lecture on the Ruusan Reformation. But I shan’t keep you any longer. Good evening to you both.” 

“Good evening, Master,” both Anakin and Obi-Wan replied as one – the former barely managing to hide the sourness in his tone, the latter with impeccable politeness. 

The moment Dooku was out of sight (and earshot), Anakin nearly exploded with pent up frustration. 

“How is it,” he seethed. “That he spends my entire life lecturing me on my  _ great responsibilities _ ,” he framed the words in air quotes with his fingers, “But the second I take on any real, actual responsibility, I’m suddenly too stupid to lace my own boots?” 

“Don’t take it personally, Anakin. Just last week, I watched him lecture Qui-Gon on his lightsaber form, and he hasn’t been Dooku’s padawan for half a century.” 

This of course was far too late. He knew by the set of Anakin’s frown that his Padawan had already decided that he _would_ be taking it personally, thank you very much.

“And what’s wrong with the way Ahsoka dresses?” he continued ranting, “You’d think she was practically naked, the way he was carrying on!”

Obi-Wan merely rolled his eyes and, bodily turning Anakin around, began to steer his former Padawan towards the refectory, one hand on his shoulder. “Where  _ is _ our Padawan?”

“I left her with Qui-Gon earlier. She’s writing a paper on some sort of Force metaphysics, and that stuff is way over my head.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said doubtfully, “There are very few Jedi more powerful in the Force than you are. Surely you’re being modest.” 

Anakin flushed at the compliment, and a soft grin played at the edge of his mouth. “Yeah, well, it’s difficult for me to describe  _ because _ it comes so naturally. When you open your eyes, you see things - that doesn’t mean you can describe the exact scientific process of how that works.” 

“L ight enters the retina and is detected by photoreceptor cells,  of which humans have three specialized kinds- rod cells, cone cells and photosensitive retinal ganglion cells.” Obi-Wan immediately recited. "Oh, come now! I t was a  _ joke _ .”

Anakin was still grumbling his displeasure to a chortling Obi-Wan when they finally entered the massive, bright refectory. As he stepped in, he felt his earlier tension melt away.

The refectory, where all Jedi took their meals, besides being one of the largest rooms in Anohrah, was also the most beautiful. On three of the walls, the names of the three pillars of the Jedi way proudly reigned over their corresponding mosaic depictions: Knowledge, Self-Discipline, and the Force. The fourth wall was made entirely out of glass, and the bright light of the Coruscanti sunset streamed in, glittering against the mosaics and reflecting in scattered, multicolored patches of light across the room. There were technically no set times for meals - what with the Order being made up of a thousand different species, all with different dietary habits and preferences - but this was a popular time for nearly all of its diurnal members. Hundreds of voices echoed through the room, making conversation and enjoying the company of friends and crechemates and masters. 

The effect should have been overwhelming, but on the contrary: even amidst the bright light and churning noise, a gentle peace filled the room. A family coming together at the end of another day. Many parts of a single whole, all echoing in the Force which bound them all.

_ “There is no chaos, there is harmony.”  _ Anakin murmured quietly into the corner of his mind, catching wind of his thoughts. Obi-Wan smiled in agreement. 

“Masters!” Ahsoka’s high, cheerful voice called loudly, and they both turned in sync to see the young Togrutan waving them over to where she was sitting with Qui-Gon Jinn, at the far end of the hall. His master gave him an easy smile, the soft laugh lines crinkling around his eyes as he did so, and Obi-Wan felt a rush of  _ Greeting-warmth-good to see you  _ across their old bond. As was traditional, they had dissolved most of it upon his attainment of Mastery, but there were natural ties between them in the Force which could never be extinguished, the product of multiple decades of support and friendship. 

_ “Good evening, Master.” _

_ “Good evening, Obi-Wan.” _

_ “I hear you played babysitter this afternoon.” _ Obi-Wan teased as he and Anakin made their way through the crowd of Jedi. 

_Amusement-affection-peace._ _“It was no trouble. She’s a good girl, and I find her to be very pleasant company." Dry sarcasm. "I hear you also played babysitter this afternoon.”_

Obi-Wan gave the mental equivalent of an exasperated groan in the Force.  _ “Senator Orn-Free-Taa made for much less pleasant company, I’m afraid.”  _

_ “You did offer to take on the Ryloth peace-talks.” _

_ “I must have been drugged, to have agreed to such odiousness." _

_ Soft chiding-amusement.  _ A brief, distracted pause, as though something had caught his attention. 

“ _ What’s this Anakin is telling me about Dooku?” _

_ “The usual stuffiness, I think. I came late into it.”  _

A soft, mental sigh, and his Master’s active presence faded from his mind. He knew that Qui-Gon regretted the often contentious relationship between his Master and his grandpadawan. Dooku and Anakin had too many years in between them, and vastly different approaches to using the Force. Dooku had spent decades carefully crafting his skill, thinking and then acting with the ease of preparation. Anakin... _ knew _ the Force. There was no discussion, or theory. It was more than a power. For Anakin, it was like a second self. He saw, and acted. 

The results were the same, but the methods in obvious conflict. Dooku thought Anakin rash and impulsive. Anakin thought Dooku stubborn and controlling. Altogether, they bickered nearly as often as they were in each other’s presence. 

They finally came to the table. Qui-Gon was staring at Anakin analytically, before his expression cleared. He stood up, leaning slightly on the cane he had used since his injuries over a decade ago, exchanging a soft, spoken hello with Obi-Wan as the latter took a seat beside Ahsoka. 

“Ani,” he said, using the nickname only he was ever allowed to use, “come with me to get the food for the table?” It was phrased as a question, but Obi-Wan knew that even if Anakin wanted to decline, he wouldn’t. 

Some of Anakin’s earlier caustic mood dissipated immediately. “Of course, Master.” he said, using the soft tone of voice only Qui-Gon ever received. 

As they retreated to the kitchens, Obi-Wan gave Ahsoka a friendly nudge with his shoulder.

“How’s your paper coming along?”

_ Frustration-Petulant Irritation-Disgust.  _

_ Mirth-Affection-Sympathy.  _ “That well?” 

“It turns out theoretical metaphysics is  _ way _ more fun when you aren’t actually doing the theorizing yourself,” she admitted with a rueful grin, the very tips of her fangs catching a flicker of the room’s light.. 

Obi-Wan laughed at that. “I thought the same when I was doing my Advanced Force Studies. That’s what you get for letting on to the fact that the Padawan-levels were too easy for you.” 

Dooku could say what he liked about Anakin’s methods, but Obi-Wan knew first hand that his former apprentice, while being a fervently kind and compassionate Master, was nevertheless a rigidly demanding one. Ahsoka was never expected to be perfect - there would be no point in a Master if that were the case - but she was always expected to give Anakin her absolute best.

When Ahsoka had become proficient in the Form IV Ataru katas, Anakin had added in various ones from Form V. When she showed an interest in his work with mechanics, he took her at her word, and by the second month of her apprenticeship, she could disassemble and rebuild the engine of his starfighter almost as fast as he could. And when she had complained about some of her Padawan-level courses being too easy, Anakin had personally gone to Master Yoda and gotten permission to sign her up for Knight-levels. 

This was their way: she chose the path, but he set the pace. A good match indeed. 

He knew it had rankled Anakin’s pride when the Council had elected a Padawan to him - not unheard of, but very uncommon - but now, he knew that his apprentice wasn’t able to imagine a path of life that did not include Ahsoka, a single step behind him. It was the same way he had felt when he had taken on Anakin as his Padawan, when Qui-Gon’s injuries from the duel on Naboo had kept him from doing so himself. 

“What’s your topic? It’s not exactly my area of study, but one doesn’t exist around Masters Dooku and Qui-Gon for so long without picking some things up.” 

“Whether time is actually controlled by the Living Force or whether it simply exists outside of time.” 

A dozen helpful texts immediately came to the forefront of his mind.

“Start from the beginning. What reading have you done so far?”

\---

They chatted like that for a quarter of an hour - when the kitchens were this busy, it could take some time for all the food to be gathered together - before Anakin and Qui-Gon returned. Qui-Gon carried a large basket of bread in one hand, four plates tucked firmly within it. Behind him, Anakin was impressively balancing four different platters. Qui-Gon was speaking to the young man patiently.

“– he  _ is _ eighty-two years old, born from a very rigid and aristocratic stock. He’s only just gotten used to Jedi women being allowed to wear pants rather than skirts. He means well. Best not to provoke him.” 

Anakin, who spent most of his time being deliberately provocative, rolled his eyes as he set the platters on the table. 

“Pants?” Ahsoka asked, her voice curious. 

“Gender presentation is a speciesist concept,” Anakin groused.

“I talked to the other non-humans and we all agree it's fine for the purposes of the conversation,” Ahsoka replied without missing a beat. “More importantly: Jedi women couldn’t wear pants?” she asked, turning her attention back to Qui-Gon. 

“Not within the physical confines of Anohrah. From what I remember, it was rarely enforced outside of ceremonial occasions. And the Council ended up abrogating the rule entirely about sixty-five years ago.”

“And he’s  _ just now _ gotten used to it?” 

“Disagreement with the Council for disagreement’s sake will do that to you,” Obi-Wan mused.

“I hope you’ll forgive him, Ahsoka,” Qui-Gon said imploringly, “He’s grown a little...eccentric in his old age, but he warms up once you get to know him. Plus, I’m sure he’d be of great help to you in your current research.”

“I agree. Although you’re only ten years younger than him, Master,” Obi-Wan teased. “So I’d be careful about linking age with eccentricity.” 

“Yes, well, it’s a healthy ten years.” 

Ahsoka looked at her own Master, waiting for his opinion. In all things, she gave him the final word. 

Anakin sighed in defeat, and Obi-Wan felt him carefully release his frustration and temptation to snap into the Force. “Master Jinn is right. Master Dooku takes quite an interest in the study of the Living Force. At the very least, I’m sure he’ll be able to point you to the proper wings of the archives.” 

Obi-Wan sent his former apprentice a private wave of  _ satisfaction-approval-well done.  _ It was a step of maturity and emotional balance that Anakin was able to choose his Padawan’s needs over his own anger. 

Ahsoka looked considerate. “If it means that much to him, I can wear something more modest when I’m here.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “But I’m wearing pants.” 

Her humor and seeming lack of serious offense eased the remaining frustration in Anakin’s expression. “Deal,” he answered firmly. 

Although the matter seemed to be settled, he could feel a last churn of emotion from Anakin, too fast for Obi-Wan to quite pin down, before it was tucked neatly away behind his shields. He resolved to bring it up later, but let the other man be for now, in favor of attending to the meal.

Almost ritualistically, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin each grabbed a plate. Ahsoka, for her part, waited patiently, her hands in her lap. 

Obi-Wan spooned bread, stew, and vegetables on the plate, layering a handful of spicy peppers on top from a nearby garnish dish as an afterthought. Across from him, Anakin was doing the same, although he was careful to make sure that none of the food touched on the plate. Finally, Qui-Gon settled food onto the plate in front of him with the ease of a person long settled into routine - preferences and needs memorized, considered, and accounted for. 

Without a word between them, each Master set the plate of prepared food before their respective Padawans. Ahsoka cheerfully attacked her meal (well, perhaps Dooku  _ did _ have a point about manners), while Anakin gave Obi-Wan a grateful smile for the peppers, and then did the same. 

_ “Thank you, Master,”  _ Obi-Wan murmured to Qui-Gon. 

_ “It is nothing, of course.” A snap of a memory, Obi-Wan at thirteen, a sour expression on his face. Fondness-mocking sternness. “Don’t ignore the vegetables.”  _

Casting a careful eye over the table, and satisfied that his lineage was cared for, Qui-Gon Jinn at last gathered together his own meal. 

It is a perfect moment. And although there remains in this world strife and prophecy to come, for now they are safe. For now, they are whole. 

Nobody speaks. Nobody needs to. Around them, light and noise blur together, as familiar to each of them as their own names. 

They continue this way, in the silence of blissful cacophony.

**Author's Note:**

> Dooku is like that very-okay grandpa that you're nice to because he buys you excellent presents on your birthday and pays your college tuition. 
> 
> In his defense, I also hate the tube top. 
> 
> The name of the Temple - Anohrah - is taken from the Jedi conlang I've seen floating around lately. I believe you can find it on Tumblr at dai-bendu-conlang. There's lots of grammar rules so I likely won't use it often but it always struck me as odd that it was just "The Temple." So here we are. 
> 
> Find me on twitter @BcItIsTheLight
> 
> Tell me what you think!!


End file.
